


Libertas

by Hyukosaurus



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate World, Blood and Injury, Espionage, I promise there's happy parts too, M/M, Minor Character Death, Slow Burn, Swearing, War, World War II level technology, bcos it's a war, lots of death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-25 01:45:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14368227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyukosaurus/pseuds/Hyukosaurus
Summary: When their mission began there was just the two of them behind enemy lines, but somewhere along the way Hakyeon had let his team grow to six.AKA a VIXX War/Espionage AU





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The technology, fashion, architecture, military etc of this story's world are entirely based around World War II (early 1940s) era Europe. All of the countries (and their politics) however within this story were created entirely for the sake of this fic and are not meant to be based on any actual existing countries on Earth. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

There was a light sheen of snow beginning to fall as Hongbin made his way down the streets of Helkai, heading towards the quieter part of downtown. The streets there were more peaceful; not deserted of people by any means, but they were lacking the somewhat hectic atmosphere that seemed to linger in the rest of the suburbs of the capital. The last month of autumn had not yet passed but that meant very little up there so close to the border. 

Hongbin felt a little out of his element still, even after the first week of his stay in the capital had passed. Helkai was, in Hongbin’s words, _fuck-off too cold_. 

He had come to Helkai with his parents so that his father could discuss business prospects with a couple of fellow engineers. Hongbin hoped the plan fell through. He didn’t want to have to move to the nation’s cold northern border, destined to have his snot freeze into little snot-sickles in his nose for the rest of his working life.

As he continued his way down the cobbled streets Hongbin found himself longing for his hometown again. Arinthall was back down on the southern coast of the nation of Helkensia. It wasn’t quite large enough to be a city, but it definitely wasn’t small enough to be called a village. And really, the best part about Arinthall was that it never got _fuck-off too cold_. This was because Helkensia quickly becomes warmer as one travels south from the northern border, and since Arinthall was right down along the shores of the ocean’s Northern Passage it was kept warm enough all year round. Even in the middle of winter it wouldn’t snow.

By the time Hongbin reached his destination-a small butcher’s shop-the cold had seeped right through his gloves and down to the bones of his fingers. He quickly joined the queue which, thankfully, only consisted of three old women. 

Once two of the women had been served he started to fish in his coat pocket for his wallet, only to have something come flying into his face the moment he looked back up.

“Sorry mister!” A boy came running up to him, grabbing for the ball that had so unceremoniously knocked the snot-sickles right from Hongbin’s nose. He was quick to wave the boy back to his friends, not wanting to deal with anything until he heard the boy snicker to another about how he _kind of_ wanted to hit there. Hongbin was resisting the urge to let the boy know that he _kind of_ wanted to kick him in the shin when the butcher called him up for his turn. 

“You don’t seem like you’re from around here, boy,” The butcher said, taking the short list that Hongbin’s mother had given to him before he left. The man was middle aged and only wore a long sleeved shirt under his apron despite the cold. 

“I’m from the south.” Hongbin guessed the three layers he was wearing probably gave that away.

“Figured as much. Just so you know, the city is planning on testing them new air raid sirens at noon so don’t go panicking when you hear them.” Hongbin just pulled his lips into a tight smile, thanking the butcher. He exchanged a few bills for the bag of meats before turning to leave, not wanting to draw the conversation out any longer. 

While he appreciated the butcher’s attempt to warn him, Hongbin had already known to expect the testing of the air raid sirens. When he and his parents had arrived in town there had already been posters up on every street corner as a warning of the event. There was a poster in the reception area of the inn they were staying at. His mother had pointed out the blurb in the local newspaper about it every morning since their arrival. Honestly, there was no way Hongbin could have _not_ been aware of it. 

Each time the topic was brought up, his father would go on a rant. He thought it ridiculous that all this money was being spent on air raid sirens when they weren’t even sure if a war was going to happen yet. Sure, there had been some tension in the Northern Nations in the past few years but surely it would not result in a war? Besides, as Hongbin’s father would point out, what good would the sirens do when 90% of the city didn’t even have air raid shelters to run to?

To be honest, whenever his father went off on these rants Hongbin tended to zone out. He couldn’t care less about a war that wasn’t even happening. All he wanted was for these two weeks in the capital to pass so they could hurry and return to Arinthall where he could finally get back to his regular routine of helping his father fix the automobiles of the town. 

In the present however, Hongbin cared about nothing more than high-tailing his probably frost-bitten ass back to the inn where he could deposit himself in front of the wood heater for the next few hours.

He was only a few blocks from the inn when Hongbin saw his leather strapped watch tick over to twelve o’clock and as promised, after only a few seconds’ delay a shrill wailing began to fill the air. 

Hongbin didn't outwardly react, but it was impossible to ignore the sound. The sirens were brash, and it was almost as if he could feel them at his core during the loudest part of their cycle. He supposed it was kind of the point, but they were alarming. They made a gross, wailing whistle sort of sound.

He kept on his path, determined not to let anything keep him from the promise of warmth, yet Hongbin’s mind couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to hear those sirens during a real war. 

A slight shiver went down his spine. He pretended it was because of the cold.

.

* * *

.

It was 2AM when Hongbin heard the wailing begin again.

For a moment he thought it was his mind playing tricks on him, but then he heard his father begin to curse from the next room over about _bloody useless technology_ and how _they’re already malfunctioning from the get-go_.

For a short while, Hongbin remained in bed, waiting for the inevitable moment when the technicians would turn the sirens off. But they weren't stopping. By the time he had dragged himself into the common part of their rented rooms he found his parents doing the same. Hongbin looked to his mother.

“Why are they going off _now_?” he asked, voice rough from sleep.

“I don’t know dear, but there is no danger surely, for there is no war to bring the danger.” She reached up to tousle her son’s hair, a habit she never dropped despite his height having long surpassed hers.

It was less than a minute later that they began to hear a buzz, a distant humming sound.  
Hongbin was not an idiot, his father was an engineer and he knew what an engine sounded like. He knew what a lot of engines would sound like.

“Father-”

“We must go now.” Suddenly his father was pushing them out into the corridor. “There is an entrance to a service tunnel down the end of the street, we will go there.”

It seemed like barely any time had passed as they made it through the corridor, the reception bay, the front door and into the freezing air of the street, yet the buzzing had grown exponentially louder. 

“Go!” His father shouted, the steam that escaped into the cold night was clearer than the actual word, mostly lost amongst the wailing of the sirens and the roar of what sounded like a thousand planes.

The moment the three of them began to run down the street was when the first bombs began to fall. It was unlike anything Hongbin had ever heard before. Deafening eruptions of sound that were oh so close by. There were screams among those who were joining them in the streets, women, just like his mother, trying not to trip over their nightgowns as they ran. 

Two bombs hit the street further behind them each within a single second and Hongbin’s hearing momentarily dropped out altogether. He could no longer feel the cold breeze on his bare arms. In fact there was a searing heat on his back, hotter than anything he had felt before. It was like a gross, hot wind. His ears were ringing, rendering the sound of the sirens, the planes, and even the bombs themselves to seem muffled and distorted.

He might have still been running, though he really wasn’t sure. But then he was on the ground.

Face against the pavement, Hongbin saw fire spewing into the air -probably from a ruptured gas main- though he could no longer tell where he faced, could not tell if he was looking in the direction he had been running or back towards the inn.

He lay there, realising that all of his other senses now seemed just as dulled as his hearing. He lay there until he couldn’t feel much of anything at all, except the heat. The gross, hot wind.

The cold city of Helkai had, for that night, been visited by the fires of Hell.


	2. The Drop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to include a map I created (mainly with the PowerPoint line drawing tool so don't judge me too harshly lol) of the countries for this fic. Hopefully it helps you to understand where everything is and what's going on a little better.  
> Anyway, on to the chapter!

### Map of The Northern Nations

.

.

.

.

### 

-What you need to know about the war-

_Karnagia was a very wealthy, powerful and resource-rich country but its leaders felt that they and the other far northern nation of Taularia were disadvantaged in trade and not making as much money as they wanted. Being the countries at the northernmost tip of the continent, Karnagia and Taularia only had two months of the year in which their surrounding oceans were not frozen over. Thus, only in those two months could they use ships to directly trade with the Southern Nations. For the rest of the year they had to seek out passages through the lower four Northern Nations of Helkensia, Penthis, Sarn, and Canpron. All four had year-round access to the oceans and Sarn and Canpron also shared direct land borders with some of the Southern Nations. The two northernmost nations wanted this access for themselves, and had never held strong relationships with the other four nations to begin with. Thus began the war._

_The beginning of the War of the Northern Nations was marked by the bombing of the Helkensian capital, Helkai. On that night, approximately 150,000 people were killed and many more received injuries. This event, known as Day One, had been meticulously planned by the nation of Karnagia as the beginning of an invasion. It took only one year and four months for unprepared Helkensia to have been completely occupied by Karnagian forces._

.

* * *

.

****

**-Four years since Day One-**

Hakyeon could barely make out the Helkensian countryside whooshing by below him as he peered out of the open door of the plane. Despite this, he felt that the night was not quite dark enough. He normally would not have attempted a parachute drop on a night so close to the full moon, but there had been a forecast for thick cloud that night.

The clouds had been blanketing them in darkness as predicted when they flew over the first drop zone ten minutes earlier. Their aircraft for the drop was a relatively small cargo plane, painted a dark grey to help them blend into the night sky. When their pilot had called out to announce the drop zone, Hakyeon’s partner Wonshik was quick to give his equipment a final check over and ready himself to drop.

“See you in a week!” His deep voice had called to Hakyeon. He had to strain to hear him over the roar of the engine in the bare metal fuselage. 

Wonshik had a sleepy look to his eyes and anyone who hadn’t known the man well might have thought he looked more ready to jump into bed rather than jump out of a plane. Hakyeon, however, knew that Wonshik was fine, always more alert than he seemed. It was a good quality for a spy to have, really.

Hakyeon gave a firm nod and cupped his hand around the back of Wonshik’s neck for a moment, giving it a squeeze. As much as Wonshik was his partner in espionage, he was also his best friend. Their occupation was inherently dangerous and death always had to be accepted as a possibility, but Hakyeon wasn’t sure how he would handle it if anything were to happen to his Wonshik. 

It was for this reason –and that Hakyeon was caring and touchy by nature- that he always got a bit clingy whenever they were about to split up and head into dangerous situations. Wonshik, the angel that he was, understood and indulged him every time.

Hakyeon didn’t pull his friend into a hug only for fear of entangling either of their parachuting equipment.

After that, Wonshik hadn’t wasted any more time. He clipped the static line of his parachute to the metal handle above the plane door before grabbing the door handle and yanking it open with grunt.

They were holding an altitude of around 200 meters, both to avoid the plane being seen and to shorten the length the parachuters had to drop to reach the ground. Every second they spent suspended in the air made them more likely to be spotted by enemy ground troops, to become a target, so their drop distance was always kept to a minimum.

For a few seconds Wonshik just leant out into the wind and looked down at the ground. Then he jumped. 

Hakyeon watched his partner disappear into the darkness and saw his static line yank and become tense the moment it pulled Wonshik’s parachute free from its pack. He quickly hauled the static line and the attached outer deployment bag back into the fuselage of the aircraft before tugging the door closed again. 

Now, ten minutes later, Hakyeon’s own drop zone was below him. 

During the time they had spent flying west to the second drop zone an unexpected wind had picked up and blown most of their cloud-cover away. The moon was going to reflect a lot more light than he wanted onto the canopy of his parachute, meaning he would be much, much easier to spot on his descent than Wonshik had been. 

With his partner having already made his drop though there was no way Hakyeon was going to back out. He'd faced much worse conditions in the past anyway.

With practiced efficiency he clipped his own static line onto the bar and stepped out to be claimed by the wind.

He freefell for only seconds before the harsh tug of the static line triggered his parachute to release. The recoil was a bit severe at such a low altitude but Hakyeon shoved any discomfort to the back of his mind, focusing on his task.

Now that he was freed from the aircraft the night was much less abrasive on his ears. The buzz of the plane grew softer and softer as it retreated to his homeland, leaving him alone with the whistling wind.

As he was descending he scanned below for a good spot to land but was alarmed to notice just how much the trees lining the edges of the fields were swaying. Hakyeon realised all too late that the wind had grown much stronger than he had thought.

Dropping closer to the ground he was suddenly jerked to the left by a violent gust of wind. He gave a good tug at his controls, trying to steer himself back into a straight descent only to be rewarded with a _snap_. 

The attachment of one of his controls had ripped clean off. 

Hakyeon absolutely _cursed_ whatever seamstress had been the one to do such a shit job of sewing it in place, leaving him with barely any control. 

He hissed when he realised that he was being blown straight towards a patch of thick, dark trees. The trees were approaching far too rapidly for his half-slack controls to be of any help so he abandoned them and brought his arms up to shield his face.

Hakyeon hit the branches hard, his bare forearms taking a lot of the battering but he could definitely feel at least half a dozen other places where twigs were tearing at him right through his clothes. He looked up as another strong gust threatened to drag him up further through the branches before his canopy finally became tangled above him.

There was a good four meters still between him and the ground but he knew he was going to have to free himself and drop regardless. He had spent way too long in the air, illuminated by moonlight, and even though he was out in the farmlands of the Southern Plains he knew there would be plenty of enemy patrols around. 

He didn’t want to waste time looking for a safer way down, so Hakyeon quickly undid the buckles on the straps of his pack and let himself drop.

Branches snapped around him and they were again harsh on his skin on the way down. When he hit the ground, more pain shot up through his ankles but he'd handled the landing well enough to know that nothing was broken.

Hakyeon took a second to collect himself, brushing some leaves from his black hair before abandoning the scene and setting off on a brisk jog through the paddock. 

He kept fairly low to the grass, painfully aware of the big _I AM HERE_ beacon that was his parachute, still billowing with the breeze in the trees behind him. His first priority was finding somewhere to shelter where he could deal with his injuries. If it was safe enough, he would stay hidden there until he could be sure that there wasn’t a Karnagian patrol team on his tail. 

He had crossed three paddocks and negotiated a few barbed wire fences by the time someone’s farm house came into view. There was a large wooden barn about fifty meters from the farmhouse. Both buildings sat in complete darkness. 

The area looked to be well kept though, so Hakyeon guessed that the owner mustn’t have evacuated before the invasion reached them and was therefore most likely asleep in the house at that moment. It wasn’t the abandoned farmhouse he was hoping for, but he still decided it would be worth seeing if they had a bicycle lying around for him to pinch.

Hakyeon was standing beside the barn when he stopped dead in his tracks. There was a body lying still in the grass a few meters from the farmhouse’s back door.

The moonlight didn’t give away much but Hakyeon was pretty sure it was a man’s body. Immediately he was on alert. If that really was a dead body then it could mean danger, but it was weird even if it was alive so he decided to check.

Hakyeon retrieved the silenced pistol that was strapped to his thigh, taking a steady aim at the figure and letting his pointer finger sit comfortably by the trigger. Keeping his guard up he approached, making sure that his footfalls were no louder than the wind. 

At about ten meters away Hakyeon could clearly see the slow rise and fall of the man’s chest. So not a dead body then. He could also now make out other details. The man lay with his eyes closed, barefoot and wearing dark slacks and a button down shirt with the sleeves folded to his elbows. He was also, Hakyeon noticed, suspiciously young, like he was in his early twenties and should have been conscripted into the army. He supposed though that he could have been excused by some medical condition that his eyes were not showing him.

Hakyeon decided he would still investigate further and oh so quietly moved right up to the young man. If he truly was a local and was perhaps ill or drunk as hell then Hakyeon felt he should at least check on him. If he turned out to be Karnagian or Taularian, Hakyeon would shoot him. 

“Oi,” Hakyeon broke the silence. The man’s eyes blinked open drowsily, like he wasn't sure if he had really heard anything. The moment he processed Hakyeon’s dark figure and the gun pointed at his chest he was much more awake.

“Fuck. Fuck! I haven’t done anything oh god-“ He started to splutter, clearly terrified. Hakyeon took pity enough to lower his gun, but did not yet let his guard down.

“Stop panicking. Tell me why you’re out here.” He kept his voice clear.

“I- I live here.” 

“But why are you lying out here in the grass?” 

“That’s- umm. It sounds dumb but I burnt the shit out of some toast.” Hakyeon stared at him and wondered if he was excused from military service because he was an idiot, but the trembling man took a deep breath and started again. “I burnt some toast so I came out to wait until the smell got better b-but I must’ve fallen asleep…”

“Do you live here alone?”

“Y-yes- only since the invasion, my parents and my sister are living in town.”

For a brief moment Hakyeon remained still before finally shoving his pistol back into the strapping on his thigh. The young man’s odd story plus the fact that he looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel from fright was enough to convince him that he was probably not a threat. Plus, there was no tell-tail Karnagian or Taularian accent.

“I’m sorry to have scared you, but I had to make sure you were Helkensian.” The man looked like he was going to pass out all over again, but this time it was from relief.

“Oh thank god, you’re one of us aren’t you?” He got up as Hakyeon took a step back.

“I am on your side, yes, but I’m not Helkensian. I’m from Sarn.” The more this information sunk in, the more the man seemed to be calming down. He shuffled from foot to foot before he spoke up again.

“If we’re gonna like, talk? I don’t know, can we maybe go inside?” He gestured back to the house. “Everyone around here knows I’m staying alone and if a patrol stops by I don’t want them to see two men standing out here instead of one.”

Hakyeon hadn’t wanted to get this involved but the burnt toast scenario was not one that he had foreseen, and the man’s obvious allegiance to the allies made him think he could perhaps come in handy.

“I don’t particularly want to meet any enemy patrols either right now, so lead the way.” The moonlight showed the young man giving him a slight smile, though he was still visibly shaken from waking to a gun in his face not five minutes earlier. 

They walked up to the back door together, the man turning an almost shy gaze towards Hakyeon as he went to grab the handle.

“Am I allowed to ask your name?” Hakyeon couldn’t help but give a little smile at how small the man sounded, despite being so tall.

“It’s Hakyeon. And yours?”

“Sanghyuk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say thank you so much to those of you who've left kudos and comments so far. It means the world to me to have even one person reading and enjoying what I've written. See you all soon ^^


	3. The First Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the map in Chapter 2 was a little awkward for phone users, it didn't seem _too_ bad at least when I checked it out myself but I hope it didn't bother anyone.  
>  Here's the new chapter! I dunno if anyone's been waiting for it but I'll pretend to myself that someone has lol. It's only self-edited so I'm really sorry if there's any mistakes I missed ;-;  
> Hope you enjoy!

The first thing Hakyeon noticed as he followed Sanghyuk into the dark house was that it really did smell like burnt toast. It made him feel a little safer knowing that Sanghyuk’s story was checking out but he was still on edge. Barely thirty minutes had passed since his drop, leaving him still well within the most dangerous timeframe for being pursued or captured by a patrol.

The back door had taken them directly into an old farmhouse kitchen with timber floorboards and dark painted cabinets lining the walls. 

Hakyeon loitered by the door as Sanghyuk grabbed a box of matches and began lighting an oil lamp on a large wooden table in the centre of the room. He raised an eyebrow.

“I was under the impression that the Southern Plains still had full electricity.” Hakyeon said, lightly closing the back door as the soft light of the lamp flickered to life. 

“We do have power, I just don’t have any lightbulbs,” Sanghyuk shuffled over to another lamp by the sink. “About six months ago mine all blew out in a power surge during a storm and I haven’t been able to get my hands on any since.”

Hakyeon supposed it made sense. Lightbulbs were fragile and had to be transported carefully, but most of Helkensia’s railways and major roads had been bombed out by the enemy during the occupation. Since then they had become a target for the allies trying to drive the enemy back out again. It wasn’t surprising that when such fragile supplies made it through the rough journey they were snatched up by the occupiers before they could make their way into local hands.

The gentle orange glow of the lights meant that Hakyeon could see Sanghyuk in a lot more detail than before as he went over to light a third and final lamp by the stove. 

He was tall -taller than Hakyeon even- and had the fit physique expected of someone raised on a farm. There was a boyish charm to his face that gave away his relative youth, yet somehow he managed to appear very masculine and mature at the same time. Hakyeon found him rather cute overall, smiling a little as he watched Sanghyuk pout and struggle to get the last stubborn lamp to light. 

Hakyeon _really_ hoped Sanghyuk was the innocent farm boy he said he was. He didn’t want to have to kill him. 

Once the last lamp had been lit Sanghyuk turned to look at Hakyeon properly, in the light for the first time, but almost immediately he froze. His eyes went wide and he gaped like a fish for a second before blurting out- 

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” Hakyeon deadpanned. He wanted to take back all of the nice thoughts he was just having, but the young man corrected himself.

“No, I mean you really don’t look well. You’re covered in blood and scratches.” 

Hakyeon felt himself soften at the genuine concern in Sanghyuk’s voice. 

“That I am,” He mused. He looked down at his body, actually letting himself pay attention to the damage for the first time. 

Hakyeon had always been good at ignoring physical pain while in the field, leaving it to sit as a dull ache in the back of his mind until he was in a situation where he felt safe enough to actually let himself address it. 

Even knowing that, he was somewhat surprised at the sheer amount of blood that he found trickling in dozens of lines down and across his arms, and there were tears in his clothes where branches had torn through. His ankles still ached from the force of his drop, but the most serious thing seemed to be whatever the hell was causing the burning pain on his right shin. The tattered material of his slacks over that area was stuck against his leg, wet with blood.

Sanghyuk, who had been fidgeting and staring in an uncomfortable silence while Hakyeon assessed himself, seemed to have had enough of doing nothing.

“You should sit down,” He pulled out a chair. “I can help you.”

Hakyeon walked over and let himself down into the chair, albeit with a bit of hesitance.

He watched as Sanghyuk went and tugged a black metal box from on top of a cabinet. The box was large enough to fit a great many things inside, and Hakyeon’s hand unconsciously shifted to rest atop his pistol again. Yes, he was coming to trust this young man, but it was still early and he couldn’t yet ignore the voice of an old trainer in his head reminding him that _the only person you can ever truly trust in the field is yourself_. 

Sanghyuk however didn’t notice anything amiss, setting the box down onto the table beside Hakyeon with a _thump_. He popped the latch and pushed the lid open. 

Inside was an array of first aid equipment, nothing sinister. Unless he was going to kill him with the dainty little pair of medical scissors (though who was Hakyeon to judge, he’d killed a man with a bottle cap once). 

But Sanghyuk was just poking around the box, not trying to kill him, so Hakyeon let go of his pistol. His expression gave away nothing of his momentary lapse in trust. 

Hakyeon moved to have a look through what he could use from the box but Sanghyuk didn’t let him get that far.

“I’ll do it. You’ll get blood everywhere if you try.” Sanghyuk’s voice was soft, like he wasn’t sure how Hakyeon would react to being told what to do. Hakyeon tried to keep his own voice gentle for the other’s sake in return, but he let his hesitancy show on his face. He had a fair amount of first aid training and he was reluctant to think about how much help Sanghyuk could possibly be when the guy couldn’t even handle making toast.

“No offence, but do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“I do.” Sanghyuk puffed his chest out just slightly, like he was defending his pride. It made Hakyeon want to smirk. “My mother and my sister are both nurses at the medical centre in town. I’ve learnt enough from them to be useful.” 

Hakyeon took in the determined look in his eyes and thought _fuck it_ , so he gave a nod and settled back into his chair. Sanghyuk seemed pleased, taking a step back to look Hakyeon over.  
“I need to clean you up first.”

With an endearing nod to himself Sanghyuk turned, strode over to the sink, and grabbed a large metal bowl from the drying rack to fill with water. 

While he waited, Hakyeon turned to look out through the windows. Sanghyuk’s house didn’t have blackout curtains, but it was in the countryside and far enough away from the town that it wasn’t really in any danger of being bombed. There was no movement outside so Hakyeon let himself focus back on Sanghyuk as he returned with the bowl of water and a dark cloth.

Sanghyuk hesitated for a moment, a little unsure about his touch, but he seemed to realise that he was being stupid and couldn’t avoid touching Hakyeon if he intended to actually help him. He grabbed one of Hakyeon’s arms with a light touch and began cleaning the blood off with the damp cloth. Hakyeon was pleasantly surprised to find that the water was warm.

“So what are you?” Sanghyuk broke the silence, keeping his eyes on Hakyeon’s arm. “Are you a soldier that didn’t get out fast enough? A pilot who got shot down? A spy or something? Wait, am I allowed to ask that?” He paused and looked back up at Hakyeon’s face, eyes questioning.

Hakyeon regarded him carefully before heaving a deep sigh. It was obvious that Sanghyuk had been kept away from really being part of the war, and he had no real sense of what kind of danger he could be getting himself into by becoming involved with Hakyeon. Nevertheless, Hakyeon couldn’t control what the other chose to do and he figured he owed him an explanation since he dragged him into his mess. 

“I’m with the Sarnish Intelligence. I hope you’re aware that you can’t speak of this with anyone.” He looked Sanghyuk dead in the eye. “I say that not just to protect myself, but also because _you_ would be shot dead if any Karnagians suspected you of helping a spy.”

Giving himself away to a stranger, even a stranger on his side, was a massive risk but he had already made himself a pretty clear abnormality in Sanghyuk’s eyes. It was Hakyeon’s own fault for not expecting Sanghyuk to be anything but insanely drunk, sick, or someone he could kill.

“That makes sense,” Sanghyuk went back to cleaning, finishing off a few more cuts before switching to Hakyeon’s other arm. “The last time I saw my sister she told me that she overheard a Karnagian general say that they still hadn’t landed any troops in Sarn. Is that still true?”

“As of now, that’s right,” Hakyeon winced as the cloth wiped some grit from a particularly raw graze. “We have plenty of defence set up along the coast and our navy is still holding strong.”

While Sanghyuk moved on to disinfecting each wound with iodine Hakyeon explained the latest goings on of the war, because none of that was classified. 

He told him of the conflict in the northern half of Penthis where most of Helkensia’s remaining troops were, about some of the naval clashes in the Northern Passage, about the bombings in his own country of Sarn. All the while Sanghyuk kept a cool face and worked diligently. Also, Hakyeon was pleasantly surprised to note that Sanghyuk really _did_ seem to know what he was doing, right down to the amount of pressure with which he bandaged the lengths of both of his forearms.

He cleaned and used plasters to dress where he had been scratched through tears in his shirt, cutting some of the holes to be bigger with those _dainty murder scissors_ before Hakyeon could protest because _it was already ruined anyway_.

He looked a little alarmed when Hakyeon swung his leg up onto another chair, pulling back his pants leg to reveal a massive gash that went down the length of his shin, a little bit of a stick still poking out the end. He plucked the stick from his own leg kind of like how one would pluck a used birthday candle from a cake, smirking a little when Sanghyuk actually squeaked and scrambled to clean up the new blood that started oozing out.

They ended up cutting the whole pant leg off below the knee so that a bandage could be wrapped around his leg for the length of the cut, and were finally able to clean up and put the medical kit back once that had been dealt with.

“So,” Sanghyuk started, leaning on the table and looking very serious as Hakyeon went to stand up. “You’re going to help us, right? To get those bastards out of Helkensia?”

“I’m obviously not going to save the nation on my own,” Hakyeon was a little wary of where this conversation was going. “But I am here to do my part.”

“I want to help.” _Ah. There it is_. “I want to do whatever I can.” His strong jawline looked tense like he was already preparing to argue if Hakyeon wasn’t fond of the idea. Which he wasn’t.

“I don’t think you realise how much danger that would put you in or what you might have to do.” He went for a stern tone of voice. “Even what you’ve done so far is far more than I would have liked to force on a civilian.”

Sanghyuk looked pretty put out by that. “You didn’t _force_ me to do anything,” Hakyeon raised a brow, so Sanghyuk raised his voice just enough to show how certain he was. “No! You were just being cautious in the beginning which I get, but I helped you because I wanted to! I’ve been sitting here for years doing shit all while those assholes took the country and my friends went off to fight. I want to _do_ something.”

Hakyeon sighed, looking down at Sanghyuk’s bare feet on the timber floor. He didn’t like the idea of putting blood on this kid’s hands. This completely untrained kid who had been a shy, bumbling mess not long ago.

“Sanghyuk how old are you?” He asked in a gentle voice, looking back up.

“Twenty-two. And don’t say I’m too young because you don’t look older than twenty-five yourself-“

“I’m twenty-seven,”

“Still!”

Hakyeon rubbed at his face and sunk back down into the chair. How did he end up here? “To be honest I need to move and find somewhere to hide out for a while anyway. It doesn’t seem like anyone has seen me tonight, thankfully, but once sunlight returns and they find my parachute they will be looking for me.”

“You can hide here.”

“If you think they won’t search your house, you’re wrong. I didn’t land far from here.”

“I have a hidden wine cellar that they don’t know about. I use it to hide things that I don’t want them to confiscate and you could hide in there. Besides, they trust me.”

Now that got Hakyeon’s attention.

“Why would they trust you? You’re their enemy.”

Sanghyuk shifted from one foot to another, his expression turning sour. “My father has a habit of sucking up to whoever’s in charge, no matter which side of the border they come from.” He was obviously uncomfortable with the topic but it wasn’t one that Hakyeon could ignore.

“Is that why you’re not off in the army?” He pushed.

“Yeah. He used to always give favours and produce from the farm to the mayor and got really chummy with him. When the war rolled around he got me pardoned from conscription even though I had no reason not to go.”

“And what did he do to suck up to the occupiers?” Hakyeon wasn’t sure what a farmer could have offered the enemy. They demanded the produce from all the farms anyway.

When Sanghyuk looked back up at him Hakyeon saw the fires of a whole separate war in his eyes.

“He helped them get in,” There was a pause, but the younger answered Hakyeon’s question before he could even voice it. “To Arinthall. He spent so much time with the mayor that he learned all of the details of the towns defences and a lot of the plans that our forces had to push back when the Karnagians reached here. He told us, on the night that they invaded, that he’d given all of this information over to the enemy in exchange for their favour when they got here. They put him in charge of civilian rations after the battle was won, so now he’s living in town with my mother and sister.”

_Well fuck_.

Hakyeon was shocked, to say the least. A self-absorbed farmer had caused the fall of Arinthall. He remembered how taken aback everyone had been when they’d heard the news, because Arinthall had been so well prepared and had been a great chance at pushing back before the enemies could make it all the way to the coast. But it had been a blood bath on their end. There were troops from Helkensia, Sarn and Canpron all present in and around the town but all had been defeated or forced to evacuate within less than a week. There had been some suggestions that a spy had leaked information to the enemy but here was the truth. It was just some farmer. He would definitely need to relay this back to Sarn when he did his first radio check in.

“Can you, um, say something please?” The war in Sanghyuk’s eyes had all but fizzled out, leaving behind a heavy sense of melancholy and what seemed like guilt for something that had not really been his fault.

“I presume,” Hakyeon started. “that you don’t sympathise with your father’s actions?”

“His actions betrayed the nation, but more than that, it betrayed our own friends and even some family. All of my friends were posted to squadrons as part of the town’s defence and now I don’t even know if any of them are alive.” Sanghyuk’s voice suddenly took on a dark note, and Hakyeon thought that maybe the man was more prepared for what he might see Hakyeon do if he let him help after all. “I have no sympathy for the enemy, and he’s as good as one of them now.”

Hakyeon stared for a while in thought.  
He still had a week before he had to meet up with Wonshik at the safe house in Arinthall, and in that time he was supposed to be collecting intel about checkpoints and how much military presence there was in the Southern Plains. He could get a lot of that information from Sanghyuk though, and possibly more. Besides, he thought, glancing down at his bandaged limbs, it wouldn’t do to be caught snooping around while he looked like he’d been dragged through a tree, even with his fake identity documents.

Sanghyuk was watching him carefully, a bit of the bashful unsureness from earlier starting to return as he waited. 

Hakyeon was good at what he did, really good, and he’d earned a high amount of respect from his colleagues for it. He had survived this long and been this successful because of his own expertise, and as he looked at the tall man in front of him, he remembered that he got there from relying on his own decision making skills, not by always sticking to the book.

_Fuck it_.

.

* * *

.

Sanghyuk lay in his bed upstairs and tried not to think too hard about the goddamn spy that was asleep (maybe?) on a pile of blankets in his wine cellar.

He wasn’t sure what the fuck he was doing, or if it would turn out to be a good idea but what’s done was done. Hakyeon had made sure to drill into him the fact that when he left in a few days he was in no way obligated to follow him, could continue his life on the farm without committing to anything more and pretend that none of this had ever happened.

Even though it was probably rash of him, Sanghyuk really didn’t think he would back down. He didn’t know what Hakyeon had been sent there to do, nor how he could be of any help and he wasn’t naïve enough to expect to be given any of that information just yet. The most important thing to him was that he would try to help however he could. He would not be his father’s son.

Another part of him, he had to admit, wanted be involved because he couldn’t stop childishly thinking about how _cool_ it was. Hakyeon was a spy, and a decidedly attractive one when he wasn’t pointing a gun at Sanghyuk’s face. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been super impressed when the other mentioned that he’d dropped in via _parachute_. So while he mainly wanted to help out of hatred for the enemy, it was also because… ohmygodspies.

At Hakyeon’s request he had shown him the wine cellar, hidden beneath a hatch door on the floor of the pantry that was usually covered with a box of frying pans inherited from his grandmother. There was a ladder that led down from there that they’d both climbed down, taking one of the oil lamps with them. 

It was fairly spacious for a wine cellar, about four by three meters, and there were shelves lining the walls. One shelf was filled with wine bottles lying on their sides while the others contained various things that Sanghyuk kept hidden away from the occupiers. Mostly it was produce from the farm that he kept for himself so he didn’t have to rely solely on rations.

Hakyeon had deemed it good enough and that was that. They had collected some spare blankets and sheets from the linen cupboard and Sanghyuk had fetched a pair of his own clothes to replace Hakyeon’s ruined ones (although they were admittedly a little large on the spy). Sanghyuk forced Hakyeon to eat an apple because he’d lost a lot of blood, and then Hakyeon had told him to go to bed. Just like that. 

He’d promised that they would talk more the next day, and Sanghyuk had trusted him. He didn’t know for sure if Hakyeon would still be there in the morning, or if he was going to come up and murder Sanghyuk while he slept. All he knew was that he could at least say he’d tried. 

His only real weapon, a rifle for shooting foxes, was hidden with Hakyeon in the cellar so he couldn’t do anything more. Mentally exhausted, he let himself fall back asleep for the few hours left before the sun would rise again.

.

* * *

.

Hakyeon did not kill Sanghyuk during the night, and he was still there when he woke.

At around 9am Hakyeon shut himself in the cellar as three Taularian motor cars were coming down the long gravel road to the farmhouse.

Sanghyuk greeted the patrol captain at the door. He looked surprised when he was told that they had found a parachute in the trees of a field not far from there. They were looking for the parachuter.

“I didn’t see or hear anything last night, Sir,”

They asked if they could look around in case he’d hidden without Sanghyuk knowing. Sanghyuk said yes.

They said it seemed like he must have cleared the area during the night. Sanghyuk said they were probably right.

Before the patrol left the captain had one more thing to say. 

“Were those two lumps of charcoal supposed to be toast?”

Sanghyuk laughed, honest and loud.

“I’ve never been one for the kitchen, Sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hey you** , thanks for reading.  
> Leave a comment if you want? It'd be nice, even if you just keyboard smash I dunno. If you want. k bye until the next chapter.
> 
> PS. Sorry if I use italics too much, I have a bit of an obsession.


	4. Planting Seeds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a week ish and here I am again. To be honest I have three assignments and an exam over the next two weeks so I really shouldn't be working on this but it's a hell of a great way to procrastinate. Besides, would I even be me if I actually organised my study for uni and acted like a responsible student? No.  
> Read away~~
> 
> * * *

Wonshik’s drop had gone flawlessly. He’d made a quick descent and landed smoothly in a field, gathering up his parachute to bury in a shallow ditch he’d dug by hand before high-tailing it out of there. 

His landing spot was about ten kilometers from the outskirts of Arinthall which was as close as he could get without guaranteeing being shot. They had chosen an area that was mostly covered by forest, and therefore wouldn’t be as heavily patrolled as any of the actual roads leading into town. Wonshik was fairly confident that he hadn’t been spotted so he made his way through the dark forest at a walking pace, figuring it was better to stay slow and quiet than to risk crashing through the undergrowth like some oaf just so he could get there faster.

In around two hours the sleepy-eyed spy had made it to the fringes of the town. He figured out where he was from the section of map he’d memorised in advance and within another ten minutes he was creeping into the back garden of the safe house.

Wonshik thought back to the photos he’d been given of the house. They had been black and white of course, as most photographs were, but it was still obvious that they had been taken on a bright sunny day. He remembered the neatly trimmed gardens and the smiling faces of the people who stood alongside them, the family of a retired Sarnish embassy worker. A file had told him that they abandoned the house and fled back to Sarn not long after the war broke out.

As Wonshik slunk towards the back door he took note of all that had changed. The yard had grown unruly, grass reaching to just above Wonshik’s knees and there was what looked like a half completed attempt at an air raid shelter dug out in one corner. The house itself didn’t look to have changed much from the back apart from the addition of metal bars on the windows.

Wonshik unbuttoned his breast pocket and took out a small silver key. It was newly cut and glinted somewhat in the moonlight before Wonshik slipped it into the lock on the back door. Much to his relief there was no awful creak as he pushed the door open just wide enough to let himself in, nor did it make much sound when he closed and locked it again behind him. 

The hallway he had entered to was decorated with a few paintings on the walls but was otherwise bare. From there Wonshik checked each dark room, making sure that the house had not been infiltrated by any strangers and that the thick blackout curtains were securely in place over every window. Once he was sure that nothing was amiss, he headed back to the master bedroom.

He wasn’t quite willing to flick the light switch on, even with the blackout curtains, so he unclipped the thin torch that hung from his belt and twisted its end until it flickered to life. He held the torch between his teeth before kneeling by the double bed and tugging a large suitcase from underneath. There were three more cases under the bed and another four boxes inside one of the old cupboards, all of which he pulled out and set on the carpeted floor of the room. He had a good idea already of what would be in them, but the safe house was set up in such a rush when the town was being captured that they didn't have an accurate record of what had been left there. Since then the house had only been visited by the other two active intelligence officers in town to drop off some things specifically for Hakyeon and Wonshik and some other equipment stolen from the enemy, but they were primarily trained as radio operators and had been told to be in and out as fast as possible.

Wonshik spent about half an hour going through the content of all of the boxes. There were six guns in total, four of which were disassembled Helkensian models and the other two were quite clearly stolen from Karnagian troops. There was a fair stack of spare ammunition for each Helkensian gun and a few other modifications. One of the large suitcases was filled with plastic explosive, packed away neatly in two kilogram blocks alongside a steel box of assorted detonators and fuses. Hakyeon and Wonshik each had one of the boxes from the closet, filled with general toiletries and sets of clothes, their respective sizes having been radioed out to the other operatives before their arrival. Another of the suitcases- the last one he’d pulled out- was smaller than the rest and contained a built in radio transmitter set. The rest of the gear was nothing surprising; medical kits, a few daggers, poison in a few different forms and more. Hakyeon would be pleased when he found out that they had a fair bit to work with.

When he was done, Wonshik packed everything away again except for his box of clothes and personal items for his stay. It was nearing four AM, according to his watch, and he was expected to make contact with one of the other operatives in town that afternoon. He hadn’t been seen, and the safe house hadn’t been compromised, so Wonshik was satisfied enough to let himself rest until he had to prepare to go out again. 

He stripped down to his boxers and flung back the covers of the bed, watching a cloud of dust particles rise up in the torchlight. He knew there would be fresh linen in the house somewhere, but he didn’t really give a damn, choosing to just flip the pillows so the dustier sides were against the bed and letting himself flop down into them face first.

Hakyeon would have called him a _fucking heathen_ but Hakyeon wouldn’t show up in town for another week. Besides, Wonshik thought, Hakyeon may have liked to be clean, composed, and well-presented when he could but he’d also seen the older man fall asleep in a muddy ditch and, on a couple of occasions, covered in the blood of men he had killed. Nevertheless, he knew Hakyeon would have scolded him for being gross when he had a choice.

As he lay there and turned off his torch, Wonshik wondered what his partner was up to, whether he had already found somewhere to hide away for the night or whether he was still scouring the countryside for an abandoned house or something of the like. Either way, he wasn’t too worried. Hakyeon was the ace; he’d always been the ace.

Keeping these thoughts on his mind, Wonshik let himself drift off to sleep.

.

* * *

.

When Wonshik woke it was midday, though the curtains blocked enough sunlight to let the room remain in a comfortable darkness. With a groan he rolled out of bed, forcing himself to his feet before the desire to stay in bed grew too strong.

To say he was not a morning person would be an understatement, but the year he had spent in the navy before being recruited to the intelligence service had forced him to leave the worst of his morning blues behind. 

After grabbing the toiletries bag from his box he shuffled into the bathroom. He didn't hesitate to flip the light on because nobody would notice any light coming from the small frosted glass window in the middle of the day. 

After a quick shower he padded back over to the sink, still butt naked and dripping water everywhere as he set to work dealing with the slight stubble on his chin. For another hour he lazed around, eating a packet of dried fruit slices for breakfast and remaining happily nude because Hakyeon wasn’t there to tell him off for it.

When he finally did get dressed he chose a pair of grey slacks and a button down navy shirt with a pair of brown leather shoes he’d found at the bottom of his box. All fairly plain looking items. If all went well he wouldn’t draw any attention to himself on his first day, but nevertheless he strapped one of the thinner daggers to his calf rather than going totally unarmed. Just in case.

The sun was harsh on his eyes as he strolled out the front gate but he was pleased to see that there was nobody else out and about to pay any attention to him. He turned to look back at the safe house and give the front a once over in the daylight and realised there was a problem.

It looked like a shit hole. Not just a _missing a little bit of tender love and care_ shithole, but a proper _bird nests in the gutters_ and _some kid painted a giant dog on me_ shithole.

Sure, it wasn’t the only abandoned house on the block and both neighbouring houses also looked like they hadn’t seen their owners in a few years but it really wouldn’t do. Once he had settled into town and become a bit more of a known face he couldn’t afford to be seen coming and going each day from this house. The forged identity documents in his pocket had him marked as the son of a fairly wealthy family from Helkai, the type who could at least afford to rent a small apartment upon his arrival instead of squatting in what was clearly an abandoned house. He would have to do something about that.

.

At ten past two Wonshik sauntered into The Full Moon, one of Arinthall’s four active bars. He found who he was looking for almost immediately but rather than approaching he turned and headed to the other end of the bar. It was only two PM but the place was far from empty. A few old men were scattered around but most of the occupants were Karnagian troops, seemingly enjoying a rostered afternoon off.

Wonshik didn’t stop at any of the tables nor at the bar itself, instead waltzing straight through a door to the back rooms as if he’d been there and done so a thousand times. As he entered an extremely pretty young woman looked up from where she’d been washing glasses. She stared at him for a moment, taking in that he was definitely not one of her attractive fellow female employees before nodding to another door to her right.

“Wait through there.” She spoke in an airy voice before turning back to the sink.

Wonshik only nodded and did as he was told; going through the other door and into what must have been the staff break room. It was decorated with three mismatched couches and a coffee table that looked thrice his age, but it was private and closed off from any unwelcome eavesdroppers. He was alone for five minutes before the door was swinging open again. 

"I see you've only gotten more handsome with time," Hyojin smiled as she pulled him into a friendly hug. 

Wonshik had first met Hyojin years ago when she taught him basic radio operation during his training. It was four years since they last spoke in person, with Hyojin having left their base in Sarn for Arinthall only weeks before the war broke out. Originally she was only intending to help out in her cousin's bar as a sort of working holiday. She had decided to stay on even as war broke out and the town was captured in order to relay whatever information she could get from behind the line. Since then, they had only made contact over the radio, her messages reaching the base not as Hyojin but under her radio code name, LE. 

"You don't look to bad yourself." Wonshik smiled back before they both took a seat on one of the couches. He was pleasantly surprised when the old thing didn’t collapse underneath him.

"I take it you made yourself familiar with all of the information I sent out?" She looked pleased when he nodded. "Nothing new has happened since my last transmission so you're up to date then. If you're sure there's nobody on your trail then we can start getting you set up right away." 

"About that," Wonshik started. "I need to find somewhere else to stay. I'll leave all of the gear at the safe house and keep it for when we need to hide away but it's way too sketchy looking for me to be based there." Hyojin looked at her nails in thought, not really surprised by this.

"There are a couple of places I could recommend for you to rent but I might actually have somewhere else that you can stay and blend in quite nicely." 

"Oh?" 

"There's a young man who runs an automobile repair shop a few blocks from here. He’s your age and he lives alone and I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be too hard for me to convince him to take you in." 

"And you trust this man?" Wonshik fiddled with the button on one of his sleeves. Hyojin didn’t hesitate to answer.

"I do. He already knows what I am and he gives me any snippets of information that he hears from the officers who take their cars to his shop. He’s done a few other things for me when I’ve asked too.” Wonshik watched as the light behind her eyes dimmed a little. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind housing you and putting you to work if I tell him who you are. He's got plenty of reasons to hate the enemy." 

Wonshik considered it. Hyojin was only a radio operator, not an authorized espionage agent, but she was smart and she had undergone at least the same basic training as everyone else in the intelligence sector. She wouldn’t have recommended this man unless she was sure he could be trusted so Wonshik agreed to give him a shot and they decided they would both pay him a visit after Hyojin’s shift ended that night. Hyojin didn’t tell him much more about the man before returning to her work, only his name. _Lee Hongbin_.

.

* * *

.

Wonshik dozed off in the breakroom until five o’clock rolled around and another young woman, Hyerin, came in to The Full Moon to take Hyojin’s place. As the sky began to grow darker the two operatives made their way to the auto repair shop, conveniently ignored by the few soldiers they passed on the short walk.

The shopfront looked like it was already closed for the evening when they arrived but Hyojin took no notice, passing right by the closed roller door and heading instead for a regular timber door around the side of the building. The door was unlocked and she ushered them both inside before shutting it behind her.

The lights inside the workshop were still on but Wonshik couldn’t see anyone but himself and Hyojin. Tools, bits of metal, and other materials were scattered around various work benches and a large black car sat in the centre of the room with its bonnet wide open to leave the engine exposed.

“Hongbin? It’s just me,” Hyojin called, stepping over a discarded plank of wood to walk further into the room. There was shuffling coming from the other side of the car.

“Just a second!” A deep voice called out, followed by some more shuffling and clanks of metal and then there was a puff of black hair and then- _holy fuck he’s so attractive_.

The man, Hongbin, propped his arms on top of the car and looked at them, or more accurately he looked at Wonshik. Wonshik was lucky to be so good at keeping up a blank face because he was legitimately shocked by how _utterly_ handsome this man was.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Hyojin started. “You’re done for the day right?”

“Yeah, um,” Hongbin’s eyes darted back to Wonshik, a little unsure. “I’m done. It’s just me here.”

“Good!” Hyojin chirped, turning back to slide the dead bolt over the door before returning again to Wonshik’s side. “You told me a while ago that you would do what you could to help me, right?” Hongbin nodded but stayed quiet, watching with wide eyes from where he stood on the other side of the car. “This is Kim Wonshik. I was hoping that you could give him a place to stay and let him help you at work.” 

“Is he a refugee from up north? I can’t really afford to pay anyone.” He wiped at some grit on his cheek only to end up smudging it, but the action seemed more for the sake of fidgeting than for the sake of actually making himself clean.

“You don’t need to pay him,” Hyojin smiled. “He’s with the Sarnish Intelligence.” Hongbin’s expression went from uncomfortable to much more intrigued.

“He’s like you?” He asked.

“Not quite. I’m technically just a radio operator, Wonshik is the real deal.” Wonshik had the decency to look a little modest for a moment before he spoke up in his deep voice.

“I could actually pay _you_ a bit if you wanted. I would just have to think up a backstory for us knowing each other and we would memorise that. It would be putting you in a fair bit of danger though so I completely understand if you’re not comfortable with this.” Hongbin shook his head.

“No, you don’t have to pay me.” He smiled, albeit a little awkwardly. “He- you can stay at my place. I don’t mind being your fake friend or cousin or whatever.” His eyes flicked back to Hyojin. “I said I would do whatever I can to help and I still mean it.”

“I’m glad.” Hyojin said with a gentleness to her voice. “How about you two head home then before the night-time patrols start hitting the streets. Wonshik can bring his things to your place later.” Hongbin quickly nodded, though he looked a little bit lost and like he couldn’t quite grasp that this was real. Suddenly, he had his own tag-along spy.

Wonshik watched as Hongbin bent down and lugged a heavy looking tyre into his arms before hefting it a few feet away from the car and out of the way. 

“I can finish replacing that tomorrow.” He huffed out while dusting off his hands. 

The guy looked pretty strong, and not just strong in the jawline department. Considering that he was Wonshik’s age as well, the spy had to wonder why he was here instead of off in uniform. He opened his mouth to ask but then let it fall shut when the other man walked out from behind the car.

There was a wooden prosthetic where the lower half of Hongbin’s right leg was supposed to be. 

Yes, that would be enough to keep you off the battlefields.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey thanks, hope you're all doing well. See you soon~


	5. Who Are We?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's alive lol ha. ha. sorry. Long story short two people very close to me passed away and I had trouble getting back into writing for a hot minute, plus this chapter sat in my drafts for a w h i l e. But that's not important to you guys so tada I'm back. If anyone is still there, here's ya new chapter!

**Arinthall**

The walk to Hongbin’s house was quiet, neither he nor Wonshik wanting to draw the attention of any patrols. The sun had dipped below the skyline right as they were setting off, leaving them to walk through streets that were growing darker and darker by the minute.

Not a single streetlamp they passed by was lit, nor was there any light spilling from the windows of the houses that lined the streets. The only artificial lights to be seen were the occasional soft yellow glows from blackout curtains that were ever so slightly misaligned, but even those were no brighter than the embers of a fire that had long since given out. Instead, silver moonlight settled over the streets. Hongbin would have been perfectly capable of finding his way even without that. He’d walked that same route countless times and its familiarity was somewhat comforting.

Hongbin had long since gotten used to the light ban, and he wasn’t afraid of the darkness that fell upon the town each night. That didn’t mean he particularly enjoyed being out in it either, because it wasn’t uncommon for a bored night patrol to pull someone aside by random for a good flogging. 

Most of the time he only saw the aftermath, someone in the streets who had been perfectly fine the day before would show up the next with a myriad of dark bruises. But there had been a few times when Hongbin had witnessed beatings in the moment. They happened partly to make sure that the town never questioned the occupiers’ authority and partly, Hongbin was sure, because the sick fucks just enjoyed it. 

Hongbin had to admit that Wonshik’s presence beside him in the dark was somewhat of a comfort, two sets of footsteps instead of just his own. Even if Wonshik was still a stranger, he was a stranger who must have had some sort of training that would come in handy if anyone decided to play ‘ _let’s beat up the pretty boy with one leg_ ’.

Even with the other beside him he didn’t want to be out any longer than necessary. Hongbin quickened his pace and tried to ignore the way his steps became a little more awkward, the way he had to focus more on making the movement of his prosthetic limb mirror his real one.

Not thirty seconds after arriving at Hongbin’s old brick house and stepping through the door, Wonshik turned around and headed back out to _fetch some luggage_. Just like that, he was alone again.

Hongbin wondered if the tall spy would be able to find his way back alright since he’d only just arrived in town. But then again, maybe he had a map stashed somewhere on his person. Maybe he’d memorised the whole town’s layout before he came. Maybe he was just really damn good with directions. Hongbin didn’t have a clue, didn’t know a thing about Wonshik other than his name and that he was a Sarnish spy. 

As he made his way through the house, flicking on light switches as he went, Hongbin thought about just what the hell he was doing. He figured that it was a terrible idea to involve himself with not one, but two people whom the enemy soldiers would shoot dead if they were exposed and then shoot him too by association. He also figured that he didn’t give that much of a fuck. 

He had been somewhat of a fucked up celebrity when he’d first made it back from Helkai, the town struck with horror at their first glimpse of the newly started war. Hongbin didn’t see a lot of the initial shock himself, but rather he heard about it through his nurses while he was busy being half-dead in the town’s hospital. 

If he died now, it wouldn’t be nearly as big of a deal. Nobody was hanging around to mourn him. All of his friends were either dead or still off fighting in the army somewhere, so probably soon to be dead. There wasn’t a whole lot left for him to hold on to, so he may as well make the most of things and get on board with this whole _fuck-up-the-enemy_ deal. 

If he was going down, he sure as hell was going to take some of those fuckers with him.

While he waited for Wonshik to return with whatever ‘luggage’ he’d gone to fetch Hongbin set about making up the spare bedroom. Once upon a time it had been his sisters’ room, but they had both long since moved out. He didn’t have to do much more than change the sheets and wipe some dust from the bedside table.

He passed some more time by cleaning and organising the rest of the house (not that it wasn’t already spotless) before finally hearing a tell-tale knock that had him opening the front door. 

Wonshik stood tall on his doorstep, looking into the light of his home with a small smile on his face and a plain brown suitcase by his side. He looked entirely too much like an innocent traveller for someone who Hongbin knew could most likely kill a man. Or multiple men. Take your pick.

“Uh, come in. Again. I guess?” Hongbin stepped aside to let Wonshik through, though he really just pressed himself against the door frame rather than actually moving out of the way. He cringed as Wonshik made an awkward side-step in order to squeeze both himself and his suitcase through the gap. Turns out Hongbin’s skills as a host were just as shit as he remembered. 

He closed the door before any neighbours noticed the light spilling out onto the street.

“Thanks again for agreeing to this,” Wonshik said as he followed Hongbin down the hall. “I know it must be odd to have a housemate forced on you with no warning like this.”

It _was_ odd, Hongbin thought, but not necessarily in a bad way. From the moment he’d found out what Hyojin really was he had wanted nothing more than for her to let him join in on screwing with the people who had fucked up his life. If he had to deal with some awkward social interactions to do that then so be it.

“I’m sure stranger things have happened to people, especially in times like these.”

Hongbin led the way to the spare room, glad that he’d had at least enough sense to prepare a place for his guest to sleep. He had not, however, figured out what his plan was once they got there, so with Wonshik now standing by the foot of the bed and staring back at him expectantly, Hongbin found himself entirely unsure of what to do next. Should he stay and make conversation? Offer to make dinner? A house tour, perhaps? 

“Are you ok?” Wonshik’s brow furrowed. “You look kind of constipated-”

“The bathroom is across the hallway, my room is to the left of yours, and the kitchen and lounge are at the end of the hall. Don’t go in the room with the ribbon on the doorknob. I’m going to make dinner.”

And with that Hongbin backed out of the room and closed the door, pointedly avoiding looking at whatever expression Wonshik had after he had completely ignored his question.

_Smooth_.

Hongbin speed-walked down the hall and into the kitchen, muttering curses at himself as he went. He figured that the best plan of action after that brilliant display of social ineptitude was to follow his own words and actually make dinner. And by make dinner he meant he was going to boil some noodles. 

Wonshik wandered into the kitchen some ten minutes later, right as Hongbin was dishing up the noodles. Hongbin threw out a little greeting- one which Wonshik returned- and did his best to look like he wasn’t entirely clueless about how he was supposed to act.

“So have you lived here all of your life?” Wonshik started the conversation for him while moving to lean against the counter.

“I was born in Arinthall, so yeah.” Hongbin replied, glad that he at least didn’t sound as lost as he felt. “We moved houses once but only within the town.” 

“We? You and your family?” Wonshik asked. Hongbin just hummed in response before sliding one of the plates to the other man and beginning to eat. 

Maybe eating dinner while standing at the kitchen counter was a strange move- especially when there was a perfectly good dining table two meters away- but Wonshik didn’t question it. Small mercies. 

For a while it seemed like the meal would pass by in silence, but Hongbin would have no such luck. There was a familiar ache growing in his right leg, and as much as he wanted to ignore it entirely and just deal with it like a normal damn human, he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop himself from fidgeting, from drawing the attention of Wonshik and he just knew he was going to hate whatever the other was about to say.

“We can sit down if you’d like?” Wonshik said, voice laced with a gentleness that made Hongbin prickle with irritation because yes, yes he did want to sit down, but he’d be damned if he did.

“No. I’m fine.” He said around a mouthful of noodles. He’d had a long day of work and the pressure at the join of his prosthetic was starting to _throb_ , but the last thing he wanted was to start a pity party with his new spy pal on their first night. 

Wonshik must have been some kind of saint because he dropped the subject and went back to his noodles just like that.

* * *

Hongbin, it seemed, had spent enough time around Hyojin to learn not to ask too many questions. Wonshik wished he could offer the same courtesy in return, but he knew that if this was going to work he would have to pry Hongbin for more information than he probably wanted to give.

Wonshik had always been good at reading people, at understanding them, but never as good as Hakyeon was. At times like this he really wished he had Hakyeon beside him to be the soothing voice of reassurance. Even someone with the empathetic ability of a brick could tell that Hongbin was uncomfortable and wasn’t going to enjoy having his privacy invaded, throwing out his vulnerabilities to a complete stranger. But if this arrangement was going to work then there were things that Wonshik needed to know.

With their food finished and all of the dishes washed and stacked in the drying rack the two of them relocated to the living room.

Just like the rest of the house that Wonshik had seen so far, the living room was almost ridiculously clean and well-organised, nothing even a centimetre out of place. Wonshik felt like he was disturbing the perfected image of it all when he sat himself down on one of the couches, but he was supposed to be living here from now on so may as well get used to it, right?

“So,” Wonshik started, leaning back into a cushion. “I think we can start by saying that I shouldn’t pretend to be your relative, because we look nothing alike.” Hongbin nodded in agreement.

“So friends then? Maybe childhood friends?” Hongbin said as he settled into one of the two armchairs opposite from Wonshik. 

“That would probably be the safest option, but we’re going to need a backstory that fits with my papers as well.” Wonshik reached into his chest pocket for the folded pieces of paper before handing them over to the other man. They held limited information but all of it was things that Hongbin as his ‘friend’ should know.

Hongbin unfolded the pages, huffing out a little laugh that moved his fringe.

“You stole someone’s identity documents?” 

“They’re not stolen, they’re fakes. Actually they’re stolen blank documents with a fake identity on them.” Said Wonshik. “Try to take it all in as if it’s real, and let me know if you see anything that you think could be useful.”

While Hongbin started to read quietly, Wonshik set about trying to make the atmosphere a bit less oppressive. The sooner his host got comfortable around him, the better; both for the sake of needing to befriend and work with him for his cover in Arinthall, but also because Hongbin was still ridiculously attractive and Wonshik couldn’t help but hope for them to get along. 

Wonshik slid to the end of his couch where a large radio set sat atop a side table. Hongbin barely even glanced at him when he switched it on. He turned the volume down low before fiddling with the dials for a while, skipping over the Karnagian propaganda channel and the fuzz of noise where the occupiers were blocking any allied broadcasts before managing to tune in to some orchestral music. The signal wasn’t terribly strong, but the soft music was enough to take the edge off of the silence in the room. 

Hongbin spoke up after a couple of minutes.

“My parents both grew up and met in Helkai, and since you’re supposed to be from there too,” He pointed to the papers. “We could say that our parents were friends and that’s how we know each other. When I was younger we sometimes had their old friends visit from Helkai, so we could have met like that.”

“That would work as long as none of your family steps in and says it’s a lie.” Wonshik said, crossing his legs. 

“They won’t.” Hongbin said. There was a stiffness to the way that he spoke, the light dimming behind his eyes. 

Wonshik’s gaze flicked over to a frame that sat above the fireplace, the photograph inside skilfully hand-painted with colour. There was a man and woman, two girls, and a much younger boy who’s wide eyes were unmistakably the same pair that were staring at him from across the room at that very moment. 

“Hongbin, where are your parents?” Wonshik was pretty sure that he already knew the answer to that. There was a war going on, after all.

“I’d prefer not to talk about that.” Hongbin kept his gaze locked onto his lap.

“If it’s something your friends would know, and I have to pass as one of them, then I’m afraid we have to.” Wonshik sat forward. “I’m sorry to push but we’re going to have to get to know each other pretty well if this is going to work. If you’re not comfortable then it’s not too late for me to find somewhere else to stay. We haven’t really been seen together yet so if this is something you don’t think you’ll handle-“ 

Hongbin’s head snapped up. “No, I can talk, it’s fine.” He crossed his arms.

“Hongbin this is a war, I understand that some things could upset you if you get dragged into working with me-“

“I’m not incapable.” Hongbin interrupted again, but this time with a not-so-subtle hint of animosity, leaning towards just plainly pissed off and oh this wasn’t how Wonshik had wanted this conversation to go at all. “I’m not weak mentally or physically just because I’ve had some shit happen so I hope you know I that plan on being of use to you while you’re here.”

For a short while Wonshik just stared, watching Hongbin’s expression remain stern but the anger behind it was draining with each second of silence. He waited just long enough to avoid turning the conversation into an argument before he spoke again, this time much more gently.

“Can you tell me where your parents are then?” 

And this time Hongbin did. He told him about being in Helkai on Day One and waking up in a hospital with one less leg and two less parents. About being transferred in a convoy all the way back to the hospital in Arinthall when the hospitals in Helkai were struggling to find beds for the growing numbers of the injured. The two girls in the family portrait above the fireplace were indeed Hongbin’s older sisters, both of whom had married sailors from Sarn and moved with them across the Northern Passage years ago. Hongbin hadn’t received letters from either of them since the postal service was cut off during the invasion. 

Wonshik was relieved to see the tension gradually seep out from Hongbin’s body as he spoke, and soon enough they were moving on to lighter topics like school and stories from when Hongbin first started taking over his father’s mechanic shop. He seemed to be a much more open person when they weren’t prodding at sensitive topics, and for that Wonshik was grateful.

“So, what about you?” Hongbin took a moment to lean further back in his armchair, pulling his good leg up towards his chest and fiddling with the end of his pant leg. “I have to pass as your friend too so what am I allowed to know about you?” 

“Uh… I guess, I like collecting stamps?” The spy met Hongbin’s eyes hopefully, but-

“That’s so lame.”

Wonshik balked a bit but couldn’t hold back a short laugh at his bluntness. “What’s wrong with stamps? Some of them are really valuable you know.” Hongbin just rolled his eyes.

“I can’t believe I’ve met a fully-fledged _real_ spy and he _collects stamps_ in his spare time.”

“I also build clocks.”

“That is slightly- and I mean _slightly_ \- more interesting than stamps.” The corners of Hongbin’s lips twisted upwards in a smirk.

Before Wonshik could defend himself there was a loud knocking from the front door.

Hongbin froze, his smile melting away into an expression of alarm, eyes wider than usual as he looked towards the hallway.

“You should answer that.” Wonshik said, keeping his voice low.

Hongbin flicked his head back towards him. “What if it’s soldiers?” 

“Then the longer you stall the more suspicious you’ll seem. I wouldn’t worry, if they wanted to kill you I don’t think they would have knocked.”

Hongbin looked like he wanted to argue but he seemed to stop himself. He unfurled himself and rubbed a bit at his right knee (whether he was touching his actual leg or the prosthetic, Wonshik couldn’t tell) before quickly shuffling around the corner and into the hallway.

There was a moment of quiet before he heard Hongbin open the door, followed by some muffled words that Wonshik couldn’t decipher from his spot still on the couch. In no time he heard the click of the door and Hongbin returned again, his feet dragging as he shuffled in an almost childlike fashion back to his armchair.

“So?” Wonshik raised an expectant brow. Hongbin ruffled his own hair and waved about a folded slip of yellow paper with the other hand.

“Telegram.” Hongbin shrugged before opening the paper. “Wait, what?” His handsome features scrunched up into a frown. “What the hell does someone like that want with me?”

Wonshik lent forwards when Hongbin offered the telegram to for him to see. There was an address, along with a short message.

`_MR LEE HONGBIN’S PRESENCE IS REQUIRED AT 10AM OF THE NEXT DAY BY REQUEST OF AIR VICE MARHSAL CHOI OF THE KARNAGIAN AIRFORCE_`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is still reading it'd be nice to hear what you think? pls <3  
> Also the next chapter is already nearly done and as long as nobody else dies around me I should get back to updating more frequently.


	6. Adapt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanna know why this chapter is later than I wanted it to be?  
> A) It's over 5k words.  
> B) Literally blame Hongbin for opening a Twitch account and streaming for up to 10 hours, and multiple times a week.  
> C) Then blame me for using all my spare time to watch said streams.
> 
> Ok I'll shut up now.

“You’re taking too long again,” Hakyeon sighed, leaning against a tree to Sanghyuk’s right.

“I’m just better at hitting it when it’s not moving as much.” Sanghyuk’s eyes tracked the movement of the final glass bottle, determined not to miss after successfully hitting the last four. 

“You know,” Hakyeon spoke just as Sanghyuk fired and hit the bottle with a satisfying smash. “The whole point of having them swing is for you to get better at hitting targets that _are_ moving more.”

Sanghyuk lowered the gun as Hakyeon left their small thicket of trees, crossing through bright sunlight into the field and over to the wooden frame behind the barn that they had been stringing bottles from. 

This was their third time coming out here for target practice, and although Hakyeon had initially been hesitant, he had certainly taken Sanghyuk’s training seriously once they’d begun.

Sanghyuk looked down at Hakyeon’s pistol, still a little unsure of the way it felt in his own hands. It was entirely different from holding his father’s rifle, and it felt just as different to shoot as well. Where the rifle was clunky and had a few dents in its wooden stock, the metal of Hakyeon’s pistol was sleek and cold in his palms. To him it felt a little heavier than it perhaps really was, but the overall feeling Sanghyuk got from it was just cold. This gun was not made to off the occasional fox on a farm. It was a gun made to kill people. 

Sanghyuk wondered how many it already had.

“This time I want you to do as I showed you earlier,” Hakyeon called out, breaking Sanghyuk from his thoughts. There were five new bottles strung up on the frame. “Five shots in five seconds, just move on if you don’t hit one.” He gave each bottle a push to set them swinging before jogging back over to Sanghyuk who, on the elder’s cue, took aim once again.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

His first shot hit the mark, as did his second. The third shot was a miss, fourth was a hit, and fifth another miss.

“Your hold looks a little too loose. Remember I want you gripping that gun as hard as you can without trembling.” Hakyeon motioned for Sanghyuk to lower the gun.

“Was the timing good this time at least?” Sanghyuk looked hopeful. He wanted so badly to be improving, to get the spy’s seal of approval. 

Hakyeon was like a character that had stepped straight out of the pages of one of his many adventure novels, all precision, confidence, and self-assuredness in his own skills. The patches of sunlight breaking through the canopy above and dancing along his golden skin only made him look all the more unreal. Sanghyuk wanted to be all that. Hell, even half of that. He didn’t expect to become a world class sharp shooter in four days but he sure was going to try his damn hardest.

“It was good but don’t go jerking the trigger too harshly just because you’re shooting fast. Try to keep that movement smooth or else you’re knocking your aim—” Hakyeon paused mid-sentence, eyes staring at nothing while his head cocked to one side, listening. Sanghyuk frowned. “Do you hear that?” 

“Hear what?” 

He’d barely finished his question when Hakyeon snatched away the pistol and started dragging him by the arm deeper into the thicket of trees. A flash of movement atop of the hill opposite the barn caught his attention and Sanghyuk almost immediately recognised the tell-tale grey of Taularian uniforms. 

His breath caught in his chest. 

“What the fuck do we do? How do we get away?” Sanghyuk hissed as he followed Hakyeon’s crouching walk further into the thicket. 

“We lay down here,” Hakyeon tugged him down so that they were both lying on their stomachs behind a bush. “And we wait them out.”

“If they see us here doing target practice then we’re going to become their target practice” Sanghyuk’s breathing was harsh and probably audible, starkly different to how controlled it had been not thirty seconds earlier. 

“Sanghyuk they’re not here for us,” Hakyeon said, staring out through the bush with the same stoic expression that he had worn on the night they first met. Sanghyuk looked back out himself.

There were seven figures in total. Six were Taularian soldiers and the seventh, sauntering down the hill behind them, was Sanghyuk’s neighbour.

Mr Min was born and raised in Taularia but he had owned the next farm over for longer than Sanghyuk had been alive. Sanghyuk had always thought of the scraggly man as, for lack of a better word, an asshole. 

The group strolled down to the bottom of the hill and right up to the shallow dam by the front of the old barn, where a few of them started to strip off their shirts and wade into the water. Mr Min stood off to the side, flashing a yellow-toothed smile as he spoke to one of the soldiers who still had his rifle slung by the strap around his shoulder. 

Sanghyuk knew that Hakyeon would recognise him as well. He’d seen brief glances of the man through an upstairs window when he’d come nosing around on the day the parachute was found. 

“I knew he sympathised with them but has he really brought them onto _my_ family’s land for a fucking swim?” He’d thought they wouldn’t be found in the middle of his family’s property. He’d thought they were safe.

Sanghyuk could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his hands trembled, be it from anger or from fear, he wasn’t sure. Probably both. They wouldn’t be seen as long as the soldiers stayed by the dam, but what was to stop one of them from waltzing over for a piss? What if they were one twitch amongst the dry leaves away from having a bullet wedged in their skulls?

It was difficult to think over the loudness of his own pulse, yet Sanghyuk tried to mirror Hakyeon’s position, barely moving an inch as he kept a watchful eye on the soldiers.

“Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon spoke after a while, though his gaze remained locked on the dam. “You know, I once knew a girl who smuggled photographs of top secret telegrams out of an enemy air force base by pinning them to the inside of her underwear.”

“You… what?” Sanghyuk turned his head to the other man. _Why the hell is he telling me this- right now?_

“She kept it up for a month. It’s actually one of the best methods of intelligence we can use.”

“Hiding things in your underwear?”

“No,” Hakyeon scoffed “Women. You’d be amazed at what female agents can get away with, be it by seducing someone for information or by simply appearing less suspicious than a man.”

“Have you ever been strayed aside by a woman while on a mission then?”

“Sanghyuk I’m gay.”

“Oh.”

For the briefest of moments Sanghyuk saw the spy’s gaze switch from the soldiers to him. 

“Is that a problem?” He asked.

“No, I mean I like both men and women myself, it’s just surprising. Most people here don’t admit to it so casually.” This much was true. Many Helkensians still didn’t approve of same sex relationships. He remembered though that across the Northern Passage in Sade, where Hakyeon was from, people tended to care a lot less, so perhaps he shouldn’t have been so surprised at the spy’s nonchalance. Hakyeon hummed.

“It’s not important right now anyway. It would be best if we stayed quiet.” Hakyeon said, still keeping watch as he brushed aside a piece of his dark fringe.

“Why did you start telling me random stuff then?” Sanghyuk wondered aloud, not really expecting an answer but getting one nevertheless.

“You’re a danger to yourself and anyone with you if you’re not calm enough.”

“I— what?” 

“Your hands have stopped shaking.”

Sanghyuk looked down to where his hands rested over the dirt. Surely enough, they were still.

.

* * *

.

Hakyeon sat at the kitchen table, posture straight as ever as he reassembled the pieces of his pistol by the orange glow of an oil lamp. The night was still and quiet, save for the chirping of cicadas that lined the fields outside.

It had taken an hour for Mr Min and the soldiers to leave the dam earlier that day, plus a further thirty minutes before Hakyeon deemed it safe enough for them to walk back to the farmhouse.

While nothing harmful had come of the situation, it had at least served to help Hakyeon make up his mind about the thing he had been unsure of for the past week. That thing being Sanghyuk.

The young man in question was sat at the opposite end of the wooden table, one of the many medical textbooks he owned propped open in front of him. Not for the first time that week though, he’d become preoccupied with watching Hakyeon instead. 

Sanghyuk tended to look at him much like a child who was watching a technicolour film for the first time, or like the sun was somehow shining out of Hakyeon’s asshole. 

Also not for the first time that week, Hakyeon was pretending not to notice. 

Hakyeon hadn’t even bothered trying to convince himself that he hadn’t been enjoying it. He was an attention whore at the best of times. Of course not when he had to be discreet, but in appropriate situations he thrived on it. 

But before being an attention whore, in fact before being anything else, he was an agent. 

“Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon set down his pistol as the younger’s eyes snapped up to meet his own, “Tomorrow I will be going in to Arinthall, and you will not be coming with me.” Sanghyuk frowned a little.

“When should I come in then? In a couple of days?”

“No. You are going to stay here and forget that any of this ever happened. We will not cross paths again. As far as you are concerned, I do not exist.” 

Sanghyuk seemed at a loss for words, just staring at Hakyeon like the answers to all his questions would be written somewhere in the lines of his face.

He’d been entertaining the idea of continuing to bring Sanghyuk along as his sort-of protégé, of getting him off of that farm and somehow smuggling him back to Sarn with him and Wonshik when their mission was complete. There, he could either continue with official espionage unit training or train to be a proper medic; both if he really wanted. But that was if the conditions were ideal. Hakyeon had learned from experience that conditions were _rarely_ ideal.

“You said that I could help you though? I don’t understand.” Sanghyuk sat up in his chair, looking like he’d been slapped, “You kept saying that I was doing well.”

“You _have_ been doing well. You’re intelligent and you have a very promising skill set, but I cannot always talk to you and calm you down like I did today. You’re not ready for this.”

Sanghyuk’s expression turned sour.

“I was only like that because I’d never been in that kind of situation before. You know I want to do this- I can do better! You said that you would work with me!”

“I did say that,” Hakyeon said, meeting the other’s gaze and having the fight the urge to sigh, “And I fully believe you would make a good accomplice _if_ you were given the time you need to come to terms with the danger that this all involves.” He cut off Sanghyuk’s attempt to interrupt, “No, listen. I don’t have time for you to wrap your head around killing people instead of saving people. This war will not wait for you. Do you think my superiors would let me suspend my mission because I grew a soft spot for some kid on a farm? No. My mission and my integrity as an agent, that’s what matters most right now. Do you understand?”

Sanghyuk scowled across the table at him, expression hard like a child who wanted to argue back at his teacher but who knew better. He didn’t reply.

Hakyeon asked again, gentler this time.

“I said do you understand?”

“I do.” The younger broke their eye contact, posture deflating as he turned his head to stare at the wall. 

“Thank you.” Hakyeon stood. The legs of his chair scraped against the floorboards. “I’m going to go feed the pigs.”

“Ok.” Sanghyuk didn’t watch him as he picked up the bowl of scraps from the counter and headed out the back door.

.

If he was being honest with himself, Sanghyuk should have seen this coming. He should have known that it was too good to be true.

He felt dumb. Childish even. 

He’d let himself get worked up, let his breathing become uneven and his heart beat erratic. What made it worse was that Hakyeon had just been, well, Hakyeon. Controlled. Utterly in control.

But that was how it had been from the start, wasn’t it? Sanghyuk was star-struck and had all of his cards lain out on the table, all the while Hakyeon remained an enigma. He was trying to be great but was stuck at just good. What use was good to Mr _I don’t have an imperfect bone in my body_ Hakyeon?

How could he, the son of a man who betrayed his own nation, have expected to have been able to make anything more of himself? 

Sanghyuk felt conflicted. He knew where Hakyeon was coming from, knew he would have to really pull his head out of his ass if he wanted to be anything other than a risk. But he also didn’t want to accept it, because accepting it meant going back to being exactly what his father wanted him to be.

Hakyeon coming into his life had felt like a god had given him a chance, even if that chance had pointed a gun between his eyes at first. He didn’t want that chance to disappear. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a thumping at the door. 

He snorted; Hakyeon must have returned earlier than he’d expected. 

“You don’t have to knock you know, you can come in.”

In the second that it took for the door to open, Sanghyuk realised that the sound had come from the front door, not the back. Hakyeon wouldn’t use the front door. Nor would he knock. It wasn’t Hakyeon.

He jarred and bolted upright.

Just as he did so a tall, burly figure emerged from the dark hallway, sneering as he peered at Sanghyuk across the room.

“Lazy Helkensian bastard. Not even bothering to answer the door properly now?” He spoke in a gruff, thickly accented voice. Sanghyuk glanced over the man’s uniform. A Karnagian patrol Captain, but not one he’d conversed with before. 

“That was my mistake Sir, I mistook you for someone else,” Sanghyuk was surprised by the stability of his own voice as two more soldiers came into view. 

“Did you now?” The Captain stepped a heavy boot forward, nostrils flared with distaste “And who might that someone have been?” another step forward, “Surely not a lover. No self-respecting woman would climb into bed with filthy farm shit like you.”

Sanghyuk almost cowered, but then an abrupt sensation rushed him from within, much like a bucket of frigid water had been emptied upon his head. He was going to stay alert, not lose it. Not twice in one day.

“Captain!” Sanghyuk recognised the Karnagian word barked by one of the lower soldiers. He did not recognise what came after, but he did not need to when the soldier pointed at his table.

All eyes turned to the corner of the table and Sanghyuk, realising the problem, felt like all of his organs were going to drop out of his asshole. 

There, glinting in the light of the oil lamp for all to see, lay Hakyeon’s pistol. 

Sanghyuk could pinpoint the exact moment the Captain’s presence turned sinister. 

“Stand against the bench.” Sanghyuk think to refuse, retreating backwards until his waist hit the sink as the Captain swooped forwards to within inches of his face. The man let out a hot breath in his face and, had the situation been less dire, Sanghyuk thought he might have gagged from the foulness of the smell.

“Where did you get that gun?” 

“I found it,” Sanghyuk lied in a heartbeat, “In one of my fields. Thought it might be worth something.”

The Captain surged forwards, snatching a china plate from the bench and raising it over his head with such speed that Sanghyuk couldn’t lift his own hands up fast enough to shield himself. 

He shattered it over Sanghyuk’s head. 

The blow was nowhere near enough to knock him unconscious but the pain and the momentum of it all had him stumbling back, one hand landing in the sink and the other clattering into the full drying rack.

“Bullshit!” The Captain spat, “That’s a foreign model pistol with a foreign silencer on the front! You don’t just _find_ that kind of shit laying in fields in the Southern-shithole-Plains!” Sanghyuk could feel a warm patch of blood collecting in his hairline, some of it starting to trickle down over his forehead.

The Captain turned around and launched a violent kick at one of the dining table chairs, sending it flying across the room and almost colliding with one of the other soldiers. Sanghyuk was smart enough to recognise that it was an intimidation tactic more than anything else. Blood was now dripping into one of his eyes, stinging enough to force it closed.

The Captain was quick to march back and grab a fistful of the front of Sanghyuk’s shirt, and his one closed eye meant that he didn’t foresee the next concrete-hard slap before it struck his cheek.

At that moment the back door was thrown open and someone —Hakyeon — strode right on in, ever the image of confidence and authority. Sanghyuk felt like a rug had been ripped out from underneath him when the spy started yelling in what sounded to him like perfect Karnagian.

To Sanghyuk’s credit, the Captain and the other two soldiers in the kitchen looked just as bewildered as him. 

Hakyeon marched right up to the closest soldier, still barking out a waterfall of Karnagian words¬ —none of which Sanghyuk understood— and for a terrible moment Sanghyuk thought he might have been fooled. His stomach plummeted at the thought that maybe Hakyeon was indeed a spy, but not from his side of the war.

He was snapped out of his worries when he saw Hakyeon lunge forward and punch the closest soldier in the gut, so much force behind the blow that the soldier immediately doubled over. Sanghyuk thought he might have seen him start to throw up before he fell behind the table and out of his view. 

As Hakyeon moved on to the second soldier Sanghyuk noticed that the Captain had frozen in place, not yet grasping the situation in front of his eyes.

_Don’t waste opportunities._ Hakyeon’s words from a few days ago echoed in his head. 

Sanghyuk fumbled the drying rack behind him before his hand settled on the handle of a steak knife. He gripped it hard and then swung forward, plunging it into the Captain’s lower chest with as much force as he could muster. Sanghyuk thought it must have gone in between two of his ribs because he felt far less resistance than he’d expected.

The Captain looked down at his chest with wide eyes and stumbled backwards and away from Sanghyuk. In his rush to get away from Sanghyuk however, he walked himself directly into Hakyeon’s awaiting hands. With what looked like practiced ease Hakyeon reached around and gripped the Captain’s head before wrenching it at an awful angle and letting the man drop to the floorboards.

Sanghyuk was oddly composed as he looked at Hakyeon through his good eye, having gone back to somewhat leaning on the sink behind him.

“I don’t get it,” he panted, “Why didn’t you just grab one of their guns and shoot them with it?”

“Their guns are loud and could attract attention, even out here in the Plains. Mine isn’t loaded right now.” Hakyeon stepped over the captain’s body to stand next to him.

Sanghyuk caught a flash of movement through the back window and Hakyeon, noticing his gaze, spun around and followed his line of sight. There was another soldier outside.

They both dropped to the ground just before a shot was fired, the bullet blasting a neat hole through the back window and shattering the one above the sink. A few more shots followed and thunked into the wall.

“Son of a bitch,” Hakyeon muttered. He reached over and pulled out the pistol that was still strapped to the dead Captain’s waist before firing three shots through the table legs at the wall on the other side of the room. Dummy shots? 

Sanghyuk went to crawl over to grab one of the other dead soldiers’ rifles but the older drew him back to the cabinets.

Before he could question him Hakyeon yelled out a sentence in Karnagian again and took aim at the back door.

There was silence for a few seconds before the door flew open and two soldiers rushed inside, guns held at the ready.

Hakyeon shot the first one clean in the head. He dropped just as the second soldier spun and fired with haste in their direction. The shot splintered the wood of a cabinet less than half a metre from Sanghyuk’s head. Hakyeon shot down the second soldier before he could try again. 

Hakyeon didn’t miss a beat, rising up from the floor the moment the last soldier’s body hit the ground. 

“There was only one patrol car and one motorbike so that should be all of them,” He stepped over the bodies, “Stay here and stay low while I go and check.”

Sanghyuk just nodded and watched as Hakyeon slunk out the back door, leaving him in silence. He took the opportunity to survey the scene in front of him, not quite believing his own eyes.

There were, in total, five Karnagian soldiers lying dead in his kitchen. A couple of their faces were turned in Sanghyuk’s direction and the sight made a chill run down his spine. 

Redness still lingered in their cheeks and lips, and it didn’t at all fit the image that he’d imagined death would take. Had he not been able to look into their cold, dead eyes, he would have almost expected them to get up again. 

It was unnerving how still the room had become when it had been so chaotic just moments before. The man who had, not even five minutes earlier, smashed a dish over Sanghyuk’s head was now slumped against a table leg, crimson blood seeping through his uniform and staining the royal blue of the little Karnagian flag patched to his chest.

Sanghyuk startled when Hakyeon strode back into the room.

“All clear.” The he said as he stepped over the bodies and offered Sanghyuk a hand up, which he took. “How bad is your head?” The spy moved in closer and brushed back Sanghyuk’s fringe with gentle fingers, careful not to cause any pain.

Hakyeon had never stood so close to him and Sanghyuk found himself taken aback, staring at the subtle details of his face. The roundness of his lips, the seemingly flawless texture of his skin, the way his fringe bobbed low enough to almost fall in his eyes. They were all things that he had noticed before and yet they felt somehow amplified up close. Hakyeon was beautiful.

But Hakyeon was also standing in a room of men that they —mainly Hakyeon— had just killed.

Sanghyuk drew in a sharp breath and hoped that Hakyeon would take his delayed response as just an effect of him being in shock. Which, if he was honest, he probably was.

“I don’t think it’s serious,” He reached up and felt around in his own hair for a moment. “It’s not a concussion. I think it’s just bleeding a lot because of the nature of it being a head wound.”

“Mmm,” Hakyeon hummed and stepped away. He looked around at the dead patrol team and sighed. “Does your shitty neighbour have a telephone?” 

“No, at least I’m pretty sure he doesn’t?” Sanghyuk frowned.

“Good. If he heard anything then he can’t call it in too quickly.” Hakyeon turned back to him. “Right now I need you to grab whatever is of utmost importance to you in this house and put it in a single suitcase— except your identity documents, keep them on your person. Bring the suitcase back to me when you’re done.” He waved Sanghyuk towards the stairs, “Be quick about it, we can’t waste time.”

Sanghyuk didn’t have a clue where Hakyeon’s plan would lead but was quick to follow it regardless. With an entire patrol team dead in his house, just about fucking any plan seemed like a good plan.

He left Hakyeon in the kitchen and leapt up the stairs three at a time, glad that his motor skills didn’t seem affected by only using one eye. It took him a moment to remember where his old suitcase was kept. It was only to be used when he went on a trip or travelled further than Arinthall, which was never. 

Once he’d found it he dragged it to his room and began grabbing whatever he deemed ‘important’. 

Into the suitcase he threw a tin in which he’d stuffed his admittedly not that large cash savings, a half empty photo album, a notebook of contacts, and some of his official documents. He used most of the space though to stack some of his most important medical textbooks and study journals, them being probably the most expensive things he owned. 

There was still space in the case but Sanghyuk was struck with the realisation of how little he actually owned, and again with how little of it was of actual importance to him. His eyes flicked to the small pile of adventure novels by his bed and he felt a pang of guilt for not putting them in the case too. He loved those books and it almost felt like betraying an old friend to leave them behind.

_They’re replaceable Sanghyuk._ He thought to himself. _They’re not rare or expensive and they’ll just weigh you down._

He closed and latched the suitcase before he could change his mind.

Hakyeon was right where he’d left him in the kitchen, finishing up strapping some sort of utility belt beneath his shirt. Judging by the small drawstring bag on the table next to him, he too must have gathered his possessions. He looked up and met Sanghyuk’s eyes.

“Drop the suitcase into the wine cellar,” Hakyeon flicked his head to the now open pantry door.

Sanghyuk was confused but followed the instruction without question, making a point not to dwell on the bodies of two of the soldiers that he had to step over to get there. Inside the pantry Hakyeon had left the cellar hatch open for him, so he crouched down and dropped his suitcase as gently as he could into the hole before closing it and replacing the box of pans on top.

When Sanghyuk came back out and closed the pantry door he found Hakyeon waiting for him, the small drawstring bag strung over his shoulder as he leaned with one hand on the table next to the oil lamp. He looked so calm, as if the bodies littering the floor by his feet were no more extraordinary than the rest of the furniture. Sanghyuk could not relate.

“If you’re ready to go then head to the front door,” The spy said. 

Sanghyuk shuffled on the spot for a moment. The whole situation made him feel so fucking unsure. Lost even. He met Hakyeon’s eyes in search of some sort of reassurance. 

Hakyeon gave a single, sure nod without breaking his eye contact and it was enough to make Sanghyuk pull his head out of his ass and start walking to the hall.

He was barely out of the kitchen when the sound of glass shattering made him whip back around. 

The lamp that had been perched by the edge of the table had been knocked to the ground. Flames licked at the surrounding floorboards, their reach growing by the second as more and more oil spilled out of the font. 

Sanghyuk could only stare for the briefest of moments before Hakyeon was by his side.

“It’s time to go.” His voice was just as smooth as ever, not at all matching their current situation. Sanghyuk felt the elder’s hand settle at the small of his back and let himself be guided back down the hallway and out the front door.

There were five dead people in his kitchen. They were fleeing the scene. Plus Hakyeon was setting his house on fire. There was no room for panic though. No. He could do that later. Yes, that’s what he’d do. Freak out later. 

He felt like he didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but also like he did? 

Sanghyuk’s thoughts were so clear and concise that he felt like he’d disconnected the link between his functioning self and his emotions. Like when a telephone switchboard lady unplugs a call wire and severs the connection. His panic wasn’t gone, just disconnected.

“Can we take their car?” Sanghyuk stepped out into the night, the gravel shifting beneath his bare feet. He noted where the Karnagians’ vehicles were parked a short way down the driveway. 

“It’s conspicuous but it is the fastest way to get us out of the area,” Hakyeon agreed, surveying the night for signs of movement as he walked beside the younger. 

“Right,”

“Put your sleeve over your hand so you don’t leave prints on it,” Hakyeon said as they approached the car. “Just in case.”

“Right.” Sanghyuk repeated.

When they got to the car they found the doors unlocked and the key still hanging from the ignition. The patrol team mustn’t have planned on staying long.

Hakyeon slid into the driver’s seat while Sanghyuk took up the front passenger. Time wasting didn’t seem to be on Hakyeon’s agenda as they were speeding off down the driveway in seconds, headlights off and only the moonlight guiding their way. 

Sanghyuk looked out through his window at the fields. A breeze had picked up enough to send ripples through the grass, though the movement was skittish and erratic, not the calm, rolling waves that he preferred. 

The end of the winding driveway formed a T junction with the road; turn left and you would head towards Arinthall, turn right and you would head north to the main thoroughfares— they could take you all the way to the capital if you just kept driving. 

Hakyeon turned left.

“Do you have some sort of plan?” Sanghyuk asked as he faced forwards again. The relative smoothness of the pavement under their wheels was a welcome relief from the rattling of the driveway.

“There’s always a plan, Sanghyuk.” Hakyeon spared him a quick glance. 

They were speeding down the road with no headlights and no clear way of seeing what was up ahead.

_Fitting._ Sanghyuk thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadaaaa. We'll be back to Wonshik and Hongbin next chapter. Let me know how you thought this chapter was plsss <3 . You can tell me it was shit if you'd like. I don't mind. You do you. 
> 
> Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait because I'm not to sure if enough happens in it? But I mean if you're reading this then it's already up anyway lol


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